


all your fault

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: M/M, THIS WAS FOR GOERGIE FORM NIGHTS AGO, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton thinks that maybe the idea of touring with All Time Low was better left on paper than brought to life.</p><p>That’s a lie, sort of. He adores it; they all do, because the All Time Low boys are their biggest inspirations, kind of, and the whole reason they became a band, and they’re some of their best friends and it’s their dream come true to tour with them. It’s even better than Ashton could have imagined, bus rides and cuddles and movies and nights out and laughs and jokes with Alex, Jack, Zack and Rian, but there’s one thing that makes him reconsider even joining 5 Seconds of Summer in the first place.</p><p>Jack and Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all your fault

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazhton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazhton/gifts).



> this was something i wrote for georgie a while ago im so sorry

Ashton thinks that maybe the idea of touring with All Time Low was better left on paper than brought to life.

That’s a lie, sort of. He adores it; they all do, because the All Time Low boys are their biggest inspirations, kind of, and the whole reason they became a band, and they’re some of their best friends and it’s their dream come true to tour with them. It’s even better than Ashton could have imagined, bus rides and cuddles and movies and nights out and laughs and jokes with Alex, Jack, Zack and Rian, but there’s one thing that makes him reconsider even joining 5 Seconds of Summer in the first place.

Jack and Michael.

Ashton wishes he’d listened to Alex’s dire warning –  _don’t let Jack near Michael, seriously, it’s a disaster waiting to happen_ – but it had been Luke who’d been in charge of Michael when Jack came knocking at their tour bus at some rest stop in Minnesota and Luke’s always been a pushover where Michael’s puppy eyes and pout are concerned.

(Calum blames Luke, and Ashton blames Calum for letting Luke be in charge of Michael in the first place. Michael doesn’t blame anyone, because he hasn’t spent a moment away from Jack since.)

“Hey,” Alex says, popping his head into the dressing room and making Ashton look up from his phone. “You seen Jack and Michael anywhere?”

“No,” Ashton says, a curl of worry (for everybody except Jack and Michael themselves) settling in his stomach. “Why?”

“Shit,” Alex says lowly. “Neither has Rian, or Luke, or Zack.”

“Calum?” Ashton asks hopefully. Jack and Michael being suspiciously absent means nothing but absolute mayhem. Alex shakes his head.

“Masturbating in the toilet,” he says, and Ashton rolls his eyes.  _Again_.

“We have to find them,” he says, getting up from the sofa he’s been lounging on half-regretfully. It’s a comfy sofa.

“We’ve got half an hour until your soundcheck,” Alex tells him as they start down the corridor.

“As if it’ll make a difference whether Michael’s there or not,” Ashton says, rounding a corner. “I play better than he does.” Alex snorts.

“Same goes for Jack,” he says. “Let’s kick them both out. We could start a superband without them. McBusted, but like, All Time Summer.”

“That’s a terrible name,” Ashton tells him, kicking open the door that leads out of the venue. They’re immediately greeted by the deafening screams of thousands of fans who’ve lined themselves up outside the venue, half of whom Ashton doubts are even going to the show tonight.

“This is your fault,” Alex says accusingly, as they hover by the door squinting slightly, getting used to the bright sunlight after the gloomy depths of backstage. “We never had this before you guys.”

“What can I say?” Ashton says with a grin. “We’re clearly the superior band.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Alex says, nudging Ashton’s shoulder slightly with his own. “We can ask them if they’ve seen Jack and Michael, though.”

“You do it,” Ashton says. “I don’t want to go near them.”

“Excuse me?” Alex says, mock-outraged. “Respect your elders, Irwin. You do it.”

“No,” Ashton says, “I’m too young to die.”

“Alright,  _daddy_ ,” Alex says, and Ashton scowls and kicks at his shin, because Alex just won’t let it go. “I’ll tweet it.”

“I’ll tweet it,” Ashton says, pulling out his phone. “I’ve got more followers.”

“Less is more,” Alex tells him, typing out a tweet as Ashton does the same.

“Is that what you tell yourself ‘cause you can’t get laid?” Ashton asks.

“Least I’m not fucking someone who’s  _illegal_  in America,” Alex says.

“Least I haven’t got a wonky dick,” Ashton says, and Alex makes a noise of outrage and smacks Ashton on the arm.

“It’s a useful tool for drawing right angles,” Alex says, clicking the tweet button. “Alright. Let’s wait for something.” Ashton takes the opportunity to go on Alex’s twitter, checking what he tweeted.

_@AlexAllTimeLow: Jack and Michael are AWOL. Anyone seen them? Daddy’s missing them._

“I hate you,” Ashton mutters.

“Yours isn’t much better,” Alex says, holding his phone up into Ashton’s face even though Ashton knows full well that he’d tweeted  _Has anybody seen Jack or Michael Mr Wonky Penis wants them back_.

“The world needs to be reminded,” Ashton says, scrolling through his latest mentions. “Fuck. Some people are saying they saw them go onto your bus. The whole crew’s off, right?”

“Oh, shit,” Alex swears, running towards the ATL bus. Ashton follows, hot on his heels, and they wrench the door open and tumble in. The bus seems to be empty, though, and Alex rips open curtain after curtain in the bunk area whilst Ashton opens cupboards and draws at arms length, afraid that there’s a poisonous snake in the fridge or something.

(He wishes he could forget that experience.

“You’re such a wimpy Australian,” Michael had told him.

“I could have  _died_ ,” Ashton had said.

“I wish,” Michael had said, and Luke had hit him upside the head.)

“Nothing,” he shouts to Alex, once he’s at least eighty percent certain neither Jack, Michael or some dodgy creature is residing on the ATL bus.

“Me either,” Alex yells back. “Hang on, I’ll-“ There’s the sound of a door being wrenched open and a squeal which sounds a lot like Michael’s, and then Ashton hears an exasperated “found them” from Alex. Ashton makes his way through to the back lounge, looking at the bundle of blankets on the floor that’s Michael and Jack.

“We have soundcheck in twenty minutes, Mikey,” Ashton says.

“I’m quitting the band,” Michael says, muffled by a blanket.

“Me too,” Jack says.

“Shut up, Jack,” Alex says, exasperated. “You’re not. Get out.”

“You too, Michael,” Ashton says, and he stares Michael out for a full thirty seconds before Michael caves, sighing and getting to his feet. Jack immediately follows.

“I hate these bands,” Michael grumbles, pushing past Ashton and Alex. “Jack, we’re leaving and making our own band. We’re going to be amazing.”

“Fuck yeah, we are,” Jack says enthusiastically. “But maybe we can keep Zack. We need his muscles to keep people like Alex and Ashton away.”

Alex throws Ashton a despairing look, but it’s kind of weirdly fond at the same time and Ashton likes it because this, this is a memory he’s made with his favourite band in the entire world, his inspirations. Even if it involves Michael.

-

"Nobody appreciates our friendship," Michael whines to Jack. 

"I do," Jack says. 

"You don’t count," Michael tells him. 

"You  _can’t_  count,” Jack says. “High school dropout.”

"Hey," Michael says. "At least I have an excuse for failing every subject under the sun. You were just shit." 

"Excuse me?" Jack says. "What happened to the epic Jack/Michael bromance? You’re tearing us apart, Mikey." 

(Michael doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over Jack calling him a nickname,  _ever_.) 

"I want to write a song with you," Michael announces as they walk into All Time Low’s dressing room. Rian looks up, mutters a quiet  _oh, God, not you two_ , and walks out. Good. 

"It would be terrible," Jack agrees happily. "We both suck." 

"Yep," Michael says. "We should call it, like, Handjobs For The Homeless."

"We’re not homeless," Jack says. "I want handjobs."

"Handjobs for Jack is a boring title," Michael says. 

"It’s a nice motto, though," Jack says. "Give me a handjob."

"Alright," Michael says, reaching over.

-

“Did you find Michael?” is the first thing Luke says to Ashton when he wanders in for soundcheck, wrapping his arms around Ashton from behind and resting his chin on Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton kind of resents being shorter than Luke, most of the time, but it’s nice to be completely covered and feel safe and- yeah. It makes up for all the times where Luke’s hidden food on the top shelf so only he can reach it and Ashton can’t steal any.

“Yeah, idiot,” Ashton says, nodding at where Michael’s sitting cross-legged pointedly far away from every other member of the band.

“He’s such a pouty little kitten,” Luke says, pulling Ashton closer.

“That’s the fondest thing I’ve ever heard you say about him,” Ashton notes, tilting his head to the right a little so it’s resting against Luke’s.

“Look at him,” Luke says, “can you blame me?” Ashton can’t really, because Michael’s all curled in on himself, sleeves pulled over his hands, hair all over the place, looking utterly grumpy but utterly adorable at the same time.

“Cal,” Ashton calls, and Calum looks up from where he’s tuning his bass. Ashton inclines his head towards Michael, and Calum looks over, face softening slightly, and then back at Ashton, nodding in acknowledgement. He makes his way over and sits down next to Michael, making no move to touch him, just sitting next to him silently until Michael shuffles closer and leans his head on Calum’s shoulder, murmuring that he loves him so quietly that only Calum can hear.

(Ashton can lip-read that like a pro, though, ‘cause of all the times Luke’s mouthed it to him in interviews and onstage and in places where he probably shouldn’t have.)

“Is Michael fucking Jack?” Luke wonders absent-mindedly.

“I don’t think so,” Ashton says. “I think we’d be hearing a lot about it if he were.”

“True,” Luke says, pressing a soft kiss to Ashton’s temple. “Then again, we don’t go around showing it off.”

“We don’t need to,” Ashton says. “You walk funny. Everybody knows.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Luke says, straightening up but keeping his arms tight around Ashton’s waist. “Your dick’s not  _that_  big.”

“Really?” Ashton asks, tilting his head back against Luke’s shoulder and smirking. “‘S not what you said last night.”

“Everybody’s got to make sacrifices in the name of orgasms,” Luke says, grinning down at him, and Ashton pouts.

“I’ll fuck you hard tonight,” he promises.

“You fucking better,” Luke says. “Wanna feel it. Wanna have to walk funny.”

“Such a dickhead,” Ashton mutters, shaking his head, but he twists in Luke’s grasp and gets onto his tiptoes, maybe standing on Luke’s toes in the process (who cares), and kisses Luke hard.

“Love you,” Luke mumbles against Ashton’s lips, lip ring cool against Ashton’s skin. “Love you so much.”

“Me too,” Ashton says, and Luke smiles just enough for it to be cute when Ashton kisses him again.

-

“You played well,” Michael says, waiting for Jack backstage (as ever).

“I know,” Jack says, grinning. “Would have been better if I’d played Handjobs For Jack, though.”

“You can’t use that as a voucher for a free handjob more than once,” Michael says.

“You’re no fun,” Jack tells him with a frown, handing his guitar to his tech. “I’m going to have to masturbate alone.”

“I’ll watch,” Michael offers. “Can we watch Home Alone first, though?”

“I’m in love with you,” Jack declares. “When are we playing Vegas? We should get married.”

“We should,” Michael enthuses. “That’s a good idea.”

“Maybe they can play Handjobs For Jack as you walk down the aisle,” Jack says hopefully. Michael smacks him on the arm.

“Why am I the girl?” he asks petulantly.

“Have you seen yourself?” Jack says. “I was surprised when you didn’t have a vagina.”

“You love my vagina,” Michael says.

“I do,” Jack tells him.

-

They find out why Michael and Jack had been gone for so long when they make their way back to the bus after All Time Low’s set, sweaty and exhausted and in need of a good shower and sleep.

“Bastard!” Calum yells from the bunk area, loud enough for Luke and Ashton to break apart from where they’d been lazily making out on the couch. Michael’s giggle echoes throughout the whole bus, and he sprints past Luke and Ashton and out of the bus (probably to go and find Jack) with a furious Calum stomping after him.

“What’s he done?” Ashton asks.

“Look for yourselves,” Calum says, hot on Michael’s heels. The bus door slams shut behind him, and Ashton looks down at Luke, who shrugs.

“Might as well have a look,” Luke says, and Ashton sighs but heaves himself off Luke and waits for Luke to thread their fingers together and pull him up, making Ashton follow him into the bunk area.

“Uh,” Luke says, when they’re faced with the bunks. “What’s wrong with our bunks?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, because all that he can see is their bunks. “Maybe. Um. I don’t know. Was Calum making it up?”

“Why would Michael run away?” Luke points out. “As if he’d exercise unless he had reason.”

“Oh,” Ashton says, realising, “all the curtains are shut. Maybe they hid something in the bunks.” He reaches up to pull Luke’s curtain aside, but it doesn’t move.

“What?” Luke asks.

“It’s stuck,” Ashton says.

“Pull it harder,” Luke says, “I don’t care if you break it, I’ll just sleep in yours.” Ashton does, pulls as hard as he can, but nothing moves.

“It must be superglued,” Ashton says in disbelief. “Did they do it to all our bunks?”

“Bet he didn’t do it to his own,” Luke mutters, and sure enough, Michael’s curtain pulls aside easily.

“Y’know what this means?” Ashton says. “This means we’re going to fuck in Michael’s bunk and he’s going to have to fucking deal with it.” Luke grins, untangling his fingers from Ashton’s and wrapping a hand around Ashton’s waist, pulling him close, so close that almost every part of their bodies are touching.

“He’s going to kill us,” Luke says, but he doesn’t say no.

“Serves him right,” Ashton says. 


End file.
